


Eavesnutting

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: uuuuuuuhhhhhhhh au where jongs a nightclub owner doing some Shady Business Deals and ontaekey are the secret thieves trying to double rob him and so they bug his office to listen in on his conversationstw for like. voyeurism without exhibitionism?? they don’t know taem’s listening to them bangBank contact, Taemin writes, possible empl–“I didn’t just come here for your ass, you know,” they murmur, and there’s another rustle of cloth, and Jonghyun hisses softly, and Taemin chokes on his spit.tumblrtwitter poll





	Eavesnutting

“Mmmmm, beautiful tonight….” **  
**

“Oh my _fucking_ god,” Kibum groans. Taemin snorts as his partner in crime groans and puts his forehead on the table. Jonghyun’s voice continues to float out of their scratchy radio, continuing the same song he’s been humming multiple times a day for the past week. “This isn’t worth it,” Kibum says. “I don’t care how much he’s stealing, I don’t care how much we’re double stealing, it  _isn’t worth it.”_

“He’s not  _that_ bad,” Jinki hums from where he’s writing out a draft of a heist plan. “He gets a little too into his falsettos when his normal tone would work fine but he’s good at hitting the right notes and his voice is really flowy. He sings well.”

“I don’t care about his technique,” Kibum snaps, “I just want him to sing something fucking  _else._ ”

“At least he’s not talking to himself nonstop like that last asshole whose office we bugged,” Taemin mumbles. He’s fine with Jonghyun’s little songs. As long as he doesn’t get a play by play narration of every detail of Jonghyun’s every move he’s fine.

Jonghyun starts up his whistling, the sweet little tune crackling through their speaker, and Kibum groans again.

“God, I can’t keep listening to this,” he declares, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “Jinki, come on, we’re going to grab the supplies for the big night.” Taemin watches him pulling his jacket on and searching their messy little workroom for his bag. At the desk, Jinki looks up from his plans.

“We don’t know what approach we’re taking yet,” he says. “That’s why we bugged him? To get more information? We don’t even know who he’s funneling all of the money for.”

“So we’ll get a little of everything,” Kibum huffs. Taemin snorts again. That’s never how they do things and Kibum knows it. He’s always the one insisting that they need to have a heist plan fully written out step by step before they even think about grabbing supplies.

Still, shopping is shopping, and Taemin is always game for getting out of the house. When Jinki shrugs and stacks his papers neatly to the side Taemin stretches and moves to get up too. Before he can, Kibum puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back into his chair.

“You stay here and keep listening in case something important happens,” he commands. Taemin glares at him, pushing his hand away. Unfair.

“Why me?” he asks. “I should get to–”

“Because you’re the distraction and the muscle,” Kibum tells him. “You just show up and flirt with people and then stab them. You don’t need to be there to get stealth shit. Stay here and listen.” He points at the radio commandingly as Jonghyun hums little “do do do”s under his breath. Taemin grunts low in his throat, peeved, and looks to Jinki for help; Jinki shrugs apologetically back as he folds his glasses and slips them into his chest pocket.

“He’s not wrong,” he says. “No matter what my plans are for this one you’re not in the stealth phase at all anyway.” He shrugs again, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. Kibum tugs on his elbow and heads out. “We’ll bring you back food,” Jinki promises, and follows Kibum out of the room.

Taemin huffs at the door as it closes. Well, that’s fucking great. Ditched by his crime buddies and left on his own to listen to some nightclub owner singing soft ballads alone in his office.

“Oh, say, oh, say,” Jonghyun breathes. Taemin glances at the radio and sighs, slouching back low in his seat. At least it’s nice background music. He pulls out his phone and opens up a word scramble app, thumbing through letters tiredly.

Time passes like that, just him in his office and Jonghyun’s in his, quiet and dull and boring. Even when he hears Jonghyun’s familiar ringtone he blows a slow puff of air through his lips. They never get anything from his phone calls. He’s careful; he never mentions names or locations over the phone. He’s probably had experience with taps before.

“Hey,” Jonghyun says when he answers. There’s a pause, and then, “Yeah, I’m free until opening, you know that,” and Taemin groans. He’s gonna go out somewhere soon probably, and then they’ll have to sit around and wait for him to come back so they don’t waste space recording dead air. “Now’s fine, yeah,” Jonghyun continues. “Kay. See you soon. Bye.” And then the sounds of a phone being placed on a desk, a chair being rolled over the floor. Quiet rustling, drawers opening and closing, the usual signs of someone getting ready for a trip. Taemin sighs again. Now he’s gonna leave and Taemin’s gonna be stuck here alone with not even his quiet singing for company.

He’s pulling up his texts so he can tell Jinki that he needs extra food to make up for his grumpy mood when he hears a door opening.

Pausing in his typing, he glances up at the door of his office, and then back to the little speaker. Was that–

“Hey.”

It  _was_ , and it’s a different voice, a deep voice, deep deep deep with a hint of a smile. Taemin drops his phone and grabs the notepad on the table, suddenly very much interested in what’s going on in Jonghyun’s office. He’s never had someone else up there, not since they bugged him a week ago. He leans closer to the speaker to make sure it’s recording before Jonghyun speaks again.

“You know,” Jonghyun says, voice a quiet little hum. “If you’re already here, then asking if you can come up doesn’t really serve much purpose.”

“It’s polite,” his guest says, and there’s that hint of a smile, that hint of a smug little smirk in their tone. There’s footsteps on the hardwood floor before they reach the carpet around Jonghyun’s desk.

“What if I’d said no?” Jonghyun asks.

“You wouldn’t have,” they say simply. Taemin snorts; Jonghyun tsks, and there’s the soft slide of shifting fabric.

“I might have,” he says pointedly. “Then you’d have to take your fancy little Cadenza and go all. The way. Home. Without me.” He speaks slowly, lightly, in a sweet little hum of a voice. Taemin scribbles down the name of the car for Jinki to look up later, intrigued. Jonghyun sounds almost flirty. This is getting more interesting by the second.

“To the bank, technically,” his guest says. “I still have to give them your paperwork. Or did you forget?” their voice is lower, quieter, amused, slightly muffled, almost like they’re standing very, very close to something–or, someone.

_Bank contact,_ Taemin writes,  _possible empl–_

“I didn’t just come here for your ass, you know,” they murmur, and there’s another rustle of cloth, and Jonghyun hisses softly, and Taemin chokes on his spit. Holy shit. “I’m a busy man,” they say, “maybe I don’t have time to fuck you today.”

“We both know that’s a lie, Choi,” Jonghyun says. There’s a smack of lips, and then another, and another. It sounds like just one pair, like Jonghyun is pressing slow kisses to a soft neck. “You lie too much.”

“I lie just enough to do my job,” Jonghyun’s guest– _Choi,_  Taemin writes–says, and Jonghyun’s quiet chuckle is muffled.

“So nonstop, then,” he says, and places another kiss. “Bet the judges love it.” This time it’s Choi that laughs softly as Taemin scratches out  _employee_  and writes down _lawyer_ instead.

“You know what I don’t lie about?” they ask casually. Jonghyun hums in question. There are soft sounds of fabric sliding against fabric in short little movements, and then one long slide, like a tie being pulled off of a neck. Then there’s a pleased, muffled hum from Jonghyun and several smacks of lips, real kisses this time, and a soft thud followed by quiet clatters of stuff on a desk trembling from the impact. “What a gorgeous little thing you are,” Choi whispers. Jonghyun hums into a soft, bubbly giggle, more quick kisses popping through the speaker.

“Flatterer,” he smiles, and then it’s just all kisses, all rustles, all soft hisses and muffled groans.

Taemin sits hunched over the table, staring blankly at the notepad in front of him. Holy shit. This is. A very large revelation.

Equally large is the pressure in Taemin’s pants, and when he looks down he realizes with a bitten lip that he’s hard. Fuck. He’s not entirely surprised–he always was an auditory nutter–but, like, still. Fuck. He shifts his hips, trying to grind against nothing, his brain pulling up image after image of Jonghyun in his mind.

He’s short, dark, buff and handsome, soft and pretty, gorgeous big brown eyes, and his lips.  _Fuck,_  his lips, thick and plush, always stained some form of red or pink. A louder groan floats out of the speaker and Taemin shivers imagining it spilling out of his pretty mouth. He drops his pen and rubs his cock through his jeans instead, just to let some of the pressure off. He really probably shouldn’t jerk off to this, not someone they’re trying to rob, not when Jinki and Kibum could be coming back any minute, but, fuck.

When he hears the telltale clinking of a belt buckle being undone he closes his eyes and undoes his own. He wishes he knew which Choi this was, which Choi is making Jonghyun gasp and hum and hiss through his teeth. There are too many, too many Chois and he can’t remember what all of them do to remember which one is the lawyer. He’s struggling to think up all of the Chois he can when there’s a rough curse, a louder thud and the clatter of pens and papers falling off of a desk.

“Shit, Minho, be careful,” Jonghyun whispers, and–

_“Fuck,_ ” Taemin says loudly. He gives up on not jerking off and shoves his hand down his pants immediately as Choi Minho’s face enters his mind. Fuck, he’s tall, he’s sturdy, he’s smug and confident, he has the  _hottest_ long dark hair that frames his square jaw.

He’s also the most high profile tax lawyer in the city, well known for representing people that wind up mysteriously rich with no consequences and proving them innocent without any shred of doubt.

But that’s not important to Taemin right now. What’s important to Taemin is the sloppy sucking noises coming from the radio and Jonghyun’s whispered stream of  _“Fuck fuck fuck, Minho, fuck, god, suck me deep, come on, fuck.”_

His cock is hot in his hand, hot and slick with the precome that leaks freely from his slit. Each time he strokes himself he squeezes harder on the way up. Jonghyun keeps making these noises, halfway between growls and sighs, even more musical than his constant singing, and each one makes Taemin’s cock pulse.

When he hears Minho pull Jonghyun’s pants all the way off and throw them somewhere else in the room, Taemin pulls his cock fully out of his pants. With his free hand he rubs his thumb over his head, squeezing lightly, hissing at each little tease to the sensitive nerves as his other hand keeps moving up and down.

There’s a sharp little pop from the speaker and it probably says a lot about Taemin that he recognizes it as the cap of a lube bottle but he really doesn’t care because he’s too busy listening to the soft groans and imagining how perfect Jonghyun’s face looks with long fingers stretching his asshole open.

He listens to them fuck, rough and fast, with his eyes closed and his head tilted back in his chair. He gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to hold near his chest when he heard Minho pushing inside of Jonghyun with no crinkle or mention of a condom whatsoever. Now, as the speaker pulses with the rhythmic sounds of the desk rattling with each thrust, Taemin fucks up into the circle of his fist at the same pace.

Every sound that they make together is perfect. The loud, clear slaps of skin, the slow kisses, the controlled breathing from Minho, the breathy whispers and happy gasps from Jonghyun. Taemin doesn’t know how he got so lucky. This is like everything he looks for when he’s looking up videos on his own. Even when they come, when Minho hums low and pleased, when he keeps fucking Jonghyun until Jonghyun hisses out a stream of heavy curses, it’s perfect. Taemin bites down on his shirt collar as he speeds his hand up on his cock, each thud of his heartbeat a pulse of pleasure through his whole body.

“Fuck, come here,” Minho growls. There’s heavy rustling, panting from Jonghyun, more filth whispered so close to Jonghyun’s ear that Taemin can’t hear it clearly. “Bend over, bend over, bend over,” Minho says quickly, and _fuck,_  is he still hard, is he going to fuck Jonghyun  _again_?

Something slides over the desk loudly, much too loudly to be normal–probably right next to the hidden mic–and then Jonghyun makes the best noise yet. It’s a long, high, needy little whine, almost a squeak, delivered straight through the mic and into Taemin’s ears.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Jonghyun says, Jonghyun  _whimpers_ , “oh my fuckinggod, Minho–”

And Taemin is confused, Taemin’s hand stutters on his cock because that is extremely hot but he has no idea what Minho is doing to cause it. There’s no rhythmic thudding of a dick fucking Jonghyun into the desk, there’s no wet noises of fingers pressing inside of a slick asshole, there’s no sloppy sucky blowjob noises like before. All there is is Jonghyun whimpering out those three words between shaky breaths.

Taemin groans in frustration, sliding his hand up through his hair and tugging. Fuck. He should have let himself nut before, when they did, when he was the most into it. Now he’s gotta use his imagination to fill in what they’re doing. Maybe Minho has a toy, a plug? Maybe he’s teasing it in, sliding it so slowly inside, pressing it in deep–but, no that doesn’t fit Jonghyun’s constant curses and gasps. Maybe–

“You taste so good, Jonggie,” Minho breathes, and his voice is heavy, muffled, almost like he’s–

Holy fucking shit, he’s eating Jonghyun out.

Taemin’s orgasm hits him before he even really notices, his breath catching in his throat and his cock twitching hard, pumping hot lines of come over his stomach and hand. He grunts softly, jerking his hips up as he rushes to stroke himself through it and remember to breathe at the same time.

His high doesn’t last a long time but his sensitivity does, and he breathes shaky breaths as he continues jerking his twitchy cock through every little aftershock and burst of pleasure. His heart beats up in his throat and his skin tingles all over, his brain full of a pleasant, thick, warm fog. He can still hear what Jonghyun and Minho are doing through the speaker but he doesn’t pay much attention. It’s recording anyway, so if they say something else important when they’re done it won’t get lost.

He breathes a little heavier at that thought, at the idea that he can save that audio and keep it to himself forever, to listen to whenever he wants. Fuck. That’s. Nice.

Eventually they do finish up; Taemin registers it dully as he smiles lazily up at the ceiling with his eyes still closed. He never wants to open them for a while after he nuts. It ruins the experience. He listens contentedly to the sounds of them kissing, cleaning up, getting redressed, saying bye. The audible slap Minho lands on Jonghyun’s booty and Jonghyun’s cute little squeak is the last thing Taemin hears before the door closes and Minho leaves.

It’s quiet after that, except for Jonghyun humming to himself like usual. Taemin just sits there, slouched in his chair, taking his time to recover and become a functioning human again.

He’s not sure how long he sits like that, but he knows that it’s a long time, and when he hears Jinki and Kibum bustling in the front door and down the hallway, he also knows that he doesn’t care. He cracks open his eyes for the first time to look at the workroom door as it opens. Kibum comes in, nose buried in his phone, other hand holding a greasy paper fast food bag. Jinki scoots in behind him, arms full of shopping bags. Taemin waves lazily at them both.

“Hey, we’re back,” Kibum says. He looks up to find Taemin and give him his food. “How’s the–what the fuck.”

Kibum stops dead and just looks at him, lip curling into a disgusted scowl. Taemin grins broadly back, fully aware of the jizz still smudged on his tummy and his dick still out.

“Hi,” he says.

“Taemin,” Jinki says, and then he sighs, puts his bags on the table, takes his glasses off, and rubs his eyes. “What the fuck,” he says as well.

“He’s working with Choi Minho,” Taemin hums, lifting his clean hand to run through his hair. “And they’re fucking.”

“Choi–the tax lawyer?” Jinki asks, frowning. “Is  _that_  how he hasn’t gotten in trouble with the government yet? Fuck.” Obviously over Taemin’s present state, he heads to his desk and opens up his laptop, tapping the sides in his impatience to start his research.

“You’re a nasty little gremlin,” Kibum tells him. He chucks the fast food bag at Taemin, who catches it clumsily with one arm. “I’m not guilty about eating half of your nuggets anymore.”

“Neato,” Taemin hums. He doesn’t mind. He opens up the bag, pulls out a napkin, and starts wiping the jizz off of his other hand.

**Author's Note:**

> #taem is v : ))))))   
> #he finds out how tall minho is and gets him some heels and leans up on jinkis desk like   
> #Hey Listen new heist plan Needs to include me distracting jonghyun and by distracting i mean seducing and then fucking   
> #onkey dont wanna let him but its honestly. the best plan they have   
> #so he does it and he seduces jong in his own club and fucks him in his own office   
> #and onkey do the sneaky robbing stuff while it happens   
> #and taem is v : )))))))))) again   
> #shoutout to ellicent for the title lmao


End file.
